


The Siren's Lighthouse

by Parsnip



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 16:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parsnip/pseuds/Parsnip
Summary: If you're on the run from the authorities, joining a band isn't the worst cover in the world, but how will the Inquisition fare when it's being headed up by someone whose last job was singing Led Zeppelin covers in biker bars?(A collection of short pieces in a modern AU of "Calling on Song".  Now reposted after a blip in transmission, with additional content.)





	1. The Start, ish.

"That’s her. It has to be her, look at the hand. That’s the mark," Leliana’s voice hissed.

Cullen couldn’t _stop_ looking at her. How could anyone?

The woman on the stage was a tempest. She seemed to glow under the terrible bar lights. Her long blonde curls were a riot around her, framing a face painted dramatically with deep red lips and sharp black eyeliner. She wore jeans that were painted to her body, faded and worn. She wore a closely fitted tank top under a billowing thin flannel shirt.

She walked over to the microphone stand, visibly checking in with the others on the stage - the small blonde elf at the drums, the bearded man on bass, the long haired man on lead guitar.

The first few bars cut across the room, and the attention of every patron whipped to the stage.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move, gon’ make you sweat, gon’ make you groove," the blonde belted.

"We have to talk to her," Leliana said. "After their set would be easiest. I’ll go talk to the bar owner. Stay here with Cassandra."

Cullen nodded, tearing his attention from the stage. He walked over to stand by Cass, who was transfixed by the performance.

"This is a cover, yes?" Cassandra asked. "Led Zeppelin."

"Yes," Cullen confirmed.

He watched the woman’s body bow along with the sound of the guitar, so flexible that he felt his throat clench.

Cassandra frowned.

"Do you think the others in the band know anything about the Conclave?" she asked.

"It’s possible," Cullen said. "I don’t know enough about them to say."

"We’ll find out," Cassandra said. She picked up her beer and frowned at the stage over the rim.

"This thing?" the singer asked, looking at her palm.

"Yes," Leliana said. "How did you get it?"

"I don’t remember," she said, shrugging. "Ask the others. They’re the ones that dragged me out of the Conclave."

The singer turned from Leliana and whistled, signalling the others on stage to come over.

"Oi," she said, "these three are here about the mark."

Every member of the band took on a slightly more defensive posture.

"This is Blackwall," the singer said, gesturing toward the bassist, "Wolfson," she patted the lead guitarist, "and Sera." She pointed over at the drummer. "They came looking for me when I didn’t come back. Maybe they have answers for you."

"I am Leliana," the spymaster said. "It’s really very important we find out what happened at the Conclave. The Chantry is on the warpath. We don’t want them to… make any foolish decisions."

"Is Wren in danger?" Sera asked, narrowing her eyes.

"She could be," Cullen said. "We don’t know yet. It’s fortunate we found you first, but they won’t be far behind."

"Then let’s get out of here," Wren said. "Can’t kill what they can’t catch."

"That’s a bit extreme, little bird," Wolfson said. "Let’s just talk to these guys. Maybe the mark is nothing, and we can just go home."

"Somehow I doubt it," Wren said, grumbling. "Well, compromise. Everyone back to mine. I’ll give one of you a lift as good faith. Give me the blonde, I’ll give you the beard."

"Ah- what?" Cullen said.

"Fine," Cassandra said. "Go, Cullen."

"Cullen, is it?" Wren asked. She sidled up to him and looped her arm around his. "Come on, cutie, let’s go. You can have shotgun."

"Aw, don’t give the jackboot my seat!" Sera grumbled.

"Just this once," Wren said. "Blackwall, you go with the ladies. You know how to get to the pit."

"Aye," he said. He walked over and shook Leliana’s hand, then Cassandra’s.

Cullen found himself dragged out to the back lot and over to a battered pickup. Wolfson and Sera climbed into the back with the instruments, hidden under an elevated hard top.

"You know that’s illegal, right?" Cullen asked, climbing into the passenger seat. He pointed a thumb at the back window, thoroughly blocked by the hard top.

Wren chuckled.

"Yep," she said.

 

* * *

 

"I think we’ve been found," Wolfson observed, peering out the slit in the curtains. "There’s three Chantry cars out front."

"Fuck," Wren said.

She looked down at her hand.

"You’re sure this is important," she confirmed, looking at Leliana. "And it can do something about the rifts in the sky, this whole bloody mess?"

"I am, and more importantly, Solas is," Leliana said. "He also thinks it's likely to be doing you harm. If you come with us, we can protect you."

"Me _and_ the band," Wren said firmly. "All or nothing."

"Of course," Leliana said.

"You parked out back, yeah?" Wren said, turning to the bearded man sitting at her left.

"We did," Blackwall said.

A rattling hammer of a knock shook the front door.

"Wren Trevelyan," an official-sounding voice intoned, "this is Chantry forces. We need to speak to you about the events at the Conclave."

"Fuck," Wren said.

She walked over to a door and yanked it open, revealing a small closet. She grabbed a faded leather bomber jacket and slipped it on, then reached up and slid her fingers into her hair. She picked out some hairpins, tossing them into an open backpack.

"We don't have time. Hurry," Leliana said. "Before they think to surround the house."

Cassandra walked to the back door.

"They’re bringing a truck in," she said. "We are already being pinned."

Wren grabbed the backpack and zipped it, then slung it over her shoulder. "Here’s what we’ll do," she said. "Everyone follow me. Do just what I do, no fooling. Hurry."

She walked quickly down a hallway, and without question, everyone filed after her.

The banging on the door was heavier now. "Open the door, we know you’re in there!"

She walked over to a blocked up window. "This way," she said.

Wren reached around and found a hidden catch, then unlatched it and swung the entire blocked up window open. It led to a dark room beyond.

The singer flicked on a light app on her phone.

"Stick close," Wren advised. She climbed through the open window and into the space beyond.

They all followed.

Cullen noticed that Sera, the last in line, latched the window closed once they were all through.

Wren led them through a dark apartment, down abandoned halls ornamented with peeling wallpaper. They made their way to a boarded up back door. Wren peered through, then nodded.

"They’re surrounding my place, but not this one," she said. "We can get out this way, if you follow me close."

She unlatched another hidden catch and opened the door silently, then waved Leliana and Wolfson through before following. Sera herded Cass and Cullen, with Blackwall latching the door this time.

They stuck to shadows, the lights on the phone turned off, cutting around the building and through a parking lot to the distant spot where Blackwall had insisted Leliana park the rover. It was in a small utility lot next to a generator building, surrounded by trees.

Once in sight of the vehicle, Leliana ran up, silent on her feet, then manually unlocked the doors to keep the lights from coming on. She ushered everyone in, quickly.

Cullen sat on one of the seats in the back, and tried not to make a strangled sound when Wren climbed in and sat on his lap. She took off her backpack and dropped it in Wolfson’s lap.

"This is illegal too," she said, leaning over to whisper in Cullen's ear, "if we’re keeping track."

Beyond all reasonable expectations of luck, they didn't catch Chantry attention. They made it to the highway without incident, though Leliana warned that this may not last.

Cullen found the car ride a sort of beautiful torture. Wren held on to him, pressing her body to his, occasionally leaning over to whisper various observations in his ear. He was constantly aware of her, how she smelled, how she felt against him, and it made him anxious. He found himself looking at her when she was distracted by the others, and he knew he oughtn’t.

"Do me a favor," Wren requested after the first uneventful hour on the road. "Hold on to my waist, would you?"

"Why?" Cullen asked.

"I need both hands for a minute," Wren said. "Come on, I’m giving you permission. Let go of your white-knuckle grip on the door and touch me, Commander."

Wolfson chuckled.

"I- uh-"

"I’m prepared to make this even more awkward if you don’t," Wren said. She pitched her voice more breathy, a little desperate. " _Touch me_ , Commander. _Please_."

He released the door and his seat and grabbed her around the waist with both hands.

"Thank you," she said pleasantly.

She reached up with both hands and worried at her hair a moment, then reached in and slid her fingers back.

The curtain of blonde hair fell away. She caught it and tossed it into her backpack, then shook out her real hair.

"Ah, so much better," she sighed. "That thing gets itchy after a while."

Cullen didn’t even try not to stare.

Her hair, her real hair, was red, pale and glowing. It was messy at the front, falling into her eyes after she ruffled it. The back and sides were short, nearly shaved. After she ran her fingers through it a few times, she had a sort of pompadour.

"Hope you weren’t too attached to the blonde," she said. "Thanks for the help."

"No, not- no," Cullen said. "You’re welcome."

Wren draped her arm back over his shoulder. She reached up with the other hand and smoothed a bit of Cullen’s hair back to join the other slicked back strands.

"Yours is nice, though," Wren said. "It suits you."

Cullen swallowed, then remembered he was still holding her. He released his hold quickly.

Wren raised one eyebrow in a knowing sort of way. Cullen felt himself turning red and cursed under his breath.

"Quit breaking the Commander," Wolfson said. "Be kind, little bird."

"You aren’t any fun," Wren said. "Let a girl test the waters in peace."

"Careful," Leliana said. "Here there be dragons."

"Oh, I do hope so," Wren said. "Dragons are so much fun."

Cullen wasn’t sure if he was turned on or nervous. Maybe both.

Definitely both.

 

* * *

 

 

“Curly.”

“Varric.”

“I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you think of the Herald?”

Cullen sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Varric chuckled.

“That’s an answer,” Varric said.

Cullen looked around the field of soldiers running drills.

“She’s… not what I would have expected,” Cullen said carefully.

“What were you expecting?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just know it wasn’t…”

He remembered earlier that week, when they’d had the first official meeting over the war table. Her green eyes had snapped with humor when he was introduced to her. She kindly pretended that she hadn’t sat on his lap for a hundred miles of torture.

Though, he supposed it had only been torture for him.

“Lost you there, Curly,” Varric said. Cullen snapped back to reality, frowning at Varric’s smirk.

“It doesn't matter. We're here now," Cullen said.

Varric chuckled. "At least we're going to be doing this with a soundtrack," he said.


	2. Therinfal and the Fall of Haven, ish.

"I am Envy, and I will know you," Cullen sneered.

Wren felt her blood go cold. _No._ Not him. He suffered enough in her subconscious, she didn't want-

"You tell me much with your silence," he said. "This form frightens you, does it? Or does it draw you? You desire it. You fear it."

Cullen stepped closer, stalking her, backing her up to the war table.

"Yes," he hissed. "You can be hurt this way. It will be so interesting, being you."

Wren's breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, pressing her back against the table.

"Don't touch me," she said.

"That isn't what you want at all," he said. "You want him to touch you. You want. You _want._ Yes, this is important. This is good."

Wren turned her face away.

Her own laugh met her ears, and she opened her eyes again, looking back quickly. Her own form looked back at her, smiling wickedly. This was performer Wren, blonde wig, heavily made up, sharper, bolder.

"When I am you perhaps I will take him," Envy said. "I will stalk him and I will catch him. I will have him as you will not, as you wish you could. I will fuck him in your bed with your body. Perhaps I will trick him into loving me. Think of the power that would give me! Delicious."

Wren clenched her jaw. She shoved Envy away and walked around the table.

"Yes, yes, I am _learning_ ," Envy said. "Tell me more, Herald. _Show_ me."

Wren turned away and walked toward the other side of the room.

"You cannot escape me!" Envy shrieked. "You will hear me!"

"I will do nothing," Wren said. She grabbed the door handle, yanking on it fiercely. The door resisted her efforts, groaning under the strain.

Heavy footsteps, and then Cullen's gloved hand slammed against the door next to her head. Wren jolted, and his other hand hit the door on the other side of her head.

"I am Envy," Cullen's voice whispered, dark, wrong. "I will know you, Inquisitor. I will have you. I will be you. And you will be nothing."

She could feel the heavy body armor press against her back as Cullen - _no, Envy, remember that it's Envy_ leaned against her, pressing her against the door. He smelled like sulphur and the crack of ozone. _Wrong. Cullen smells like the deep woods in the spring. Wrong, wrong, wrong._

He leaned closer, his mouth by her ear.

"I am not your toy," he growled.

Wren slammed her head back against his. The crack made her vision blurry, but Envy hissed and recoiled. She shoved herself away from the door as hard as she could, pushing him backward with the force. Her hands wrapped around the door handle and she pulled again.

This time, the door opened. Envy screeched in fury, and Wren lurched into the next room.

 

* * *

  

"Why didn’t you stop her?" Sera demanded, jabbing Cullen with her finger. He winced.

"I couldn’t," he said. "She made the choice."

"You should have thought of something better," Sera said angrily. "What good are you, fancy ‘Commander’, if your best plan was killing everyone out of spite?"

"We didn’t know about the tunnel then!" Cullen said, growing defensive. "Don’t you think if there’d been any other choice I would have stopped her?"

"No! I don’t! Why should you care about her? She’s just that stupid mark to you bastards," Sera said. "And she knows it, don’t think she doesn’t."

"She is not just the mark," Cullen said, voice growing darker.

"Right, she’s also a potential piece of ass for the pretty jackboot," Sera sneered. "Should have thought you’d save her on the chance she’ll take yer fancy cock in her mouth someday."

Cullen tried not to react, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling away in shock.

"I’m sick of you people!" Sera said, furious. "That stupid mark hurts her, and when she closes those rifts it almost tears her arm off, but do you care? No, big important bastards like you just send her out to close more of ‘em. She almost died closing that stupid breach, and that wasn’t good enough."

Sera balled her fists.

"And then you send her out to talk to the Templars, which could get her arrested, but who the fuck cares, right? And then there’s a bloody _demon_ , and it gets in her head, and she comes back full of nightmares and can’t even look at any of you and does anyone think about it? _No_. And then after all that, she closes that stupid breach, _again_ , and we get attacked by a bunch of mages, and everyone just goes, ‘oh, fine, guess we’ll die, or wait, _you_ will, just you, because we already know you’ll do any bloody thing we ask."

"Sera-"

"She’s just a tool to you," Sera hissed at Cullen, accusation in every inch of her body. "But she’s my friend, my _family,_ and if she's dead I’ll make every last one of you sorry you ever met us."

 

* * *

 

“I am not your toy,” Cullen said, echoing and bitter. “I am Envy, and I _will_ know you.”

Wren backed up until her spine hit the table. The Commander stalked after her, too close, too cold.

“Tell me who you are,” he hissed. “Tell me what you want.”

Wren clenched her jaw and pressed her lips to a thin line.

“ _I will know you_ ,” Cullen growled.

He reached for her.

Wren woke with a jolt. Her mark was flaring out of control, lighting up the whole tent with ribbons of sparking green. The pain hit her, shooting up her arm and pulling sound from her mouth. The keening sound tore at her throat.

She grabbed her wrist with her other hand as if she could stop the flow with her fingers.

The tent flap flew open. Solas rushed in, taking in the jolts of light.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Wren said, her voice raw.

Behind him, more people. Cole. Cullen. _They must have been on watch._

“Let me see,” Solas said. “Let go of your arm.”

He moved over to sit on the ground in front of her. She held out her hand, but he had to peel her fingers away from her wrist.

“Talk to me,” Solas said. “What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” Wren said, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t real,” Cole said.

He sat next to Wren on the ground.

“He wouldn’t say that to you,” Cole said. Cole looked over his shoulder at Cullen. “He wouldn’t. It wasn't real.”

Wren’s breath was shallow and she closed her eyes. Solas pressed a thumb against her palm and slid it up her arm, as if he could feel the magic that shot through her. The pain started to numb.

“We stopped Envy,” Cole said. “It can’t take his face again.”

“Envy?” Solas asked. “The demon from Therinfal?”

“Yes,” Cole said. “She remembers it. It wears Leliana’s face. Josephine’s face. Cullen’s face. It lies to her. Hurts her. She hears it all the time.”

“I thought you couldn’t read the Herald,” Solas said.

“She’s very loud,” Cole said. “Louder than the light. _Tell me who you are._ ”

Wren winced and bit her lip. Solas pressed against her arm, sliding his thumb back down to her palm.

“ _I will know you._ ”

The light that shot from her hand made everyone in the room wince.

“Cole, stop!” Cullen said firmly.

“She can’t tell it isn’t you,” Cole said. "She can't peel you apart."

"Wren." Solas' voice was more gentle now, careful. "Breathe. Eyes open. You're not there."

"I know," she said, her breath a hiss.

The mark began to dull as Wren breathed, deliberate and as slowly as she could.

"I made sure Josephine ate," Cole said. "She's fine."

Wren's gaze shot over to his.

"Leliana is safe," Cole said.

Wren blinked.

"Cullen-"

"I can see him," Wren said.

"Yes."

The sparking dulled to the normal glow.

Solas stood up. "We will figure out something for the future," he said. "I wish we'd found you sooner after the Conclave. There is so much- it doesn't matter. We will talk in the morning."

"Yes," Wren said.

He left, and after a moment, Cole followed. "It will be all right," Cole said before he left the tent.

Cullen hesitated, watching Wren take slow breaths.

"Those things Cole said," Cullen said carefully. "Did the demon say that to you?"

"Yes," Wren said. "Didn't I put that part in the report?"

"No," Cullen said. "You just said there was a demon, and it tried to scare you."

"It killed you," Wren said. "Slit your throat. It was being Leliana at the time."

Cullen reached up and touched his neck.

"You stood there staring at me while it happened," she said. "Then you dropped. Blood everywhere."

Wren turned to look at him, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her leg hid the light from the Anchor, throwing the tent into shadow.

"You were alive again later," she said. "Envy used your form to threaten me. Then it used mine to threaten you. I guess it knew how defensive I get about my people. Later on you were in jail, waiting for me to execute you for questioning the way I'd led the Inquisition. I'm not even the _leader_ , I don't know what it hoped to gain there."

There was a pause, and he saw the light flicker as she shifted.

"That's a lie. It knew seeing you there would hurt me. Just like seeing Josephine in jail hurt. She was being starved," Wren said. "Days without food or water, to torture her into confessing… something. They never said what."

"Is that why you kept sending her little cakes?" Cullen asked.

"Yes," Wren said softly. "I couldn't stop - can't stop hearing her voice. She was so sad."

Cullen walked over and knelt down in front of Wren.

"She's fine," he said. "You know she is."

"At least she's no worse off than the rest of us, trudging through these tunnels, trying to reach… whatever it is that Solas says is out there," Wren said.

"Wren," Cullen said. "Are you- do you want me to get someone? Sera? Wolfson?"

"No," Wren said. "They worry enough. Why do you think I grabbed this tent? It was far enough that they wouldn't hear me if I had a nightmare."

He paused. "I chose mine for the same reason," he finally said.

She uncurled a bit, lighting the tent again with the green light from her hand. "You too?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I've had nightmares since graduation."

" _Lyrium_ ," Wren said.

"Yes."

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"If there's anything I can do…" he said.

"Wanna cut this arm off?" she asked, holding out her left arm.

"I would rather not," he said.

"Yeah, we still need it, I suppose," Wren said, putting on a dramatic sigh. "Well, maybe someday."

 

* * *

 

 

Sera threw herself at Wren. She grabbed Wren’s shirt and shook it, nearly knocking Wren down in the process.

"Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you take me with you? Why did you send me away with the rest of them?" Sera demanded. "I would never have left you!"

"That’s why," Wren said. She reached out and grabbed Sera’s shoulders to still the furious drummer. "I needed them to leave me, and you would have stayed."

"I hate them," Sera hissed. "How could you let those bloody advisors send you to die?"

"Sera," Wren said firmly. "They didn’t send me to do anything. I decided to go. That was my choice. No one made me do it."

"Why?" Sera demanded.

"Because I’m who he wanted, or at least I have what he wanted, and that made me the only thing that could have distracted him. I needed to do it," Wren said. "I wanted to do it."

"This isn’t how things were supposed to go," Sera said. "You sing, I play drums, the other two play guitar, we make a little money, we keep moving. I want that back. I want things to be normal again."

"We’ll get there," Wren said.

"No we won’t," Sera said, shaking her head. "They’ll never let you be normal again." She shot a look over at the fire circle where Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra were arguing over a map.

"Maybe not," Wren said, "but we’ll try to make a new normal. I’m still me, Sera. You’re still you. We’ll be okay."

"Yeah," Sera said skeptically. "Until."

"Isn’t it always until?" Wren asked.

Sera’s gaze shot over to Blackwall, helping tend the injured.

"Yeah," Sera said.


	3. Setting up Skyhold, ish.

"What do you suppose this building was?" Wolfson asked, shoving a crate out of the way of the door.

Sera scrambled past the other broken bits of wood and looked around.

"A pub," she declared. "A shite little pub. Can’t be all bad, though. Still bottles back here."

Wren shoved her way in, looking around.

"What a mess," she said, shaking her head.

Wolfson followed them.

"I’ll check upstairs," he said. Wren nodded, then started poking around . There were still decent chairs in here, some tables that could be salvaged. When the lights came on, she winced at the amount of dust and grime the ancient fixtures exposed.

"Power still works," Sera said, returning from the back room.

"Probably the only place here that has it," Wren said. "The main hall has a generator room in the basement, but half the machines are busted. Rylen is working on it, but it’ll be a while."

"Yeah," Sera agreed. "This place has its own generator. Can of petrol next to it, worked well enough."

"Does it have a magewheel?" Wren asked.

"Yeah, but I’m not gonna hunt down Vivy to get her to spark it. She’s too busy looking down her nose at this place. Like an ancient castle in the mountains isn’t good enough for her ladyship, ugh," Sera said.

Wren nodded. "I’ll ask Dorian later," she said.

Wolfson tromped back down the steps.

"Second floor has a bunch more busted tables," he said. "Third floor is empty. There’s more stairs headed out to one of the towers on the wall. Ran into Bull up there. The bosses are looking for you, Trevelyan."

"Well, they can look for me in here," Wren said, climbing over things to inspect under the stairs.

Moments later, she emerged with a beaming smile.

"You won’t believe what I just found," she said.

Wolfson raised his eyebrows and waited.

Wren turned, then dragged a large black box out of the storage compartment.

"Is that… part of a PA system?" Wolfson asked, disbelieving.

"Better," Wren declared. "It’s part of a karaoke set up."

"Oh no," Wolfson said, shaking his head.

"Oh," Wren said, " _yes_."

 

* * *

 

 

They stood around the war table. Leliana searched through her tablet for the notes she wanted. Cullen was taking notes on force distribution. Josephine was reading a report.

Wren slipped a little closer to Josie, so slowly that Josie didn’t notice it happening.

Then, Wren started to hum, very quietly.

Josie was intent on her report, and didn’t pick up on the song until she was also humming it.

Wren slid away again, pleased with her work.

A few minutes later, Leliana looked up.

"You’re doing it again, Josie."

"Huh?" Josephine stopped humming, then put a hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she said. "I don’t know how I-"

She turned and looked at Wren, who was studiously nudging the markers on the map.

"You did that," Josephine accused.

"Did what?" Wren asked.

"Put that song in my head!"

"What song?"

"You know very well what song!"

"I couldn’t possibly."

Josephine made a frustrated noise and went back to her report.


	4. Adamant, ish.

Cullen stood in the wreckage of the fortress, a sick dread rocking him. He shouted commands to the troops and directed the Wardens that were trickling from the building, but all he could see was the flash of green. All he could think about was-

"Where did she go?"

He turned. Sera ran up, covered in ash and dirt.

"Where are they?" she demanded. She pulled another arrow from her quiver, but didn’t nock it.

"I don’t know," Cullen said, the tension making his voice thin.

"You’re the Commander! How do you not know where they went?" Her face contorted with anger. "How do you keep losing her?"

She pushed past him and headed toward the fortress. Cullen jogged after her and grabbed her arm.

"Sera," he said. "It’s not safe. The whole thing might collapse."

"They have to be in there!" Sera said, twisting.

"They fell through the rift," Cullen said. "They aren’t here. We can’t get to them this way."

"I need to do something!" Sera insisted, turning to look at him.

"There’s nothing we can do," Cullen said. His voice cracked, and he shook his head.

"What the fuck good are you?" Sera demanded.

"None," Cullen said. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Sera stopped and looked at him.

"At least you know it," she grumbled.

Cullen let her go. She turned and stalked back to the main gates.

 

* * *

 

 

"Oh, fuck no. We are not playing this false dichotomy game," Wren said.

Alistair and Hawke looked at her, each frowning.

"One of us should stay," Hawke said.

"Then I will," Wren said. "Get the fuck out."

"What? No!" Alistair said. "You’re the only one that can close the rifts!"

"I just tore our way into the Fade. What makes you think I can’t tear my way out?" Wren asked impatiently. "Either help me kill this thing or get out of here, both of you. We don’t have time to argue."

The rift behind them flickered. The Nightmare swung around and oriented on them.

"Fuck it," Hawke said. He pulled his sword out and grinned. "We’ll live or die together then, Little Bird."

Alistair shook his head and pulled his sword.

"In for a penny," he said.

Wren twirled her daggers and nodded.

"Let’s do this," she said.

 

* * *

 

 

"Where the hell are they?" Wolfson demanded, flicking demon blood off his sword.

"They were right behind us!" Dorian said, eyes a bit wild with panic. "Maker, she was _right there_."

Varric ran up. "Where’s Hawke?" he demanded.

"He shoved me through the rift himself," Cassandra said.

Solas shook his head. "Idiots," he said. "They sent us through and stayed behind."

"All three of them? Why would they do that?" Wolfson asked.

"The Nightmare," Dorian said. "They must have decided to fight it."

"The Nightmare?" Wolfson asked. "What is that?"

Cassandra shook her head. "A demon," she said. "Of truly remarkable size and cunning. It stole the Herald’s memories of the Conclave. It provided the demon army to Corypheus."

The remaining Wardens circled around, watching the rift that flickered in the air between them. Magister Erimond chafed at his bonds.

"They’ll never defeat the Nightmare!" he screeched. "Corypheus will have his army!"

"His army is already lost!" Solas snapped.

"Solas," Varric said, "That rift won’t close on its own, will it?"

"I would normally say that it would not," Solas said, "but this situation is unusual. I can try to use rift magic to hold it, but I cannot promise I can do so for long."

"Fuck it. Try, then," Wolfson said. "We’ll guard the rift as long as we can. Cassandra, you and Dorian get to the gates and tell them what’s happened."

Solas cast at the rift, filling the tear with light. Though the rift kept flickering, it did not close.

"Come on you idiots," Varric said under his breath. "Come out of there."

 

* * *

 

 

"What’s happening to the rift?" Alistair yelled as he dodged.

"I don’t know!" Wren yelled. "I’m not a rift mage!"

"We should have kept Solas back," Garrett said as he ran behind Wren to draw fire.

Wren waited for the Nightmare’s many eyes to focus on Hawke, then ran up and sliced through another of its legs. A shower of blood burned her skin, and she ducked to shield her eyes.

The demon hissed and whirled to look for Wren. She dropped into stealth and skittered away.

While it was distracted, Alistair charged in and took off another of its legs, then stabbed into the wound he’d created.

Hawke went for the Nightmare’s eyes.

Wren flicked the blood off her face and returned to the fray. More legs. It always seemed to have more legs. Why so many fucking _legs_?

 

* * *

 

 

"This is taking too long!" Wolfson growled, heading for the rage demon that spawned from the rift.

"The Fade is unstable," Solas said.

"You cannot hope to win," Erimond sneered.

"Go fuck yourself," Wolfson suggested.

The Wardens swarmed the rage demon.

The rift flared.


	5. Post-Adamant Karaoke Nonsense, ish.

"Oh for- _Hawke_ ," Fenris’ frustrated voice cut through the din as Hawke climbed up on stage.

Hawke had a tremendous grin on his face as he scrolled through the list of options, then shook his head.

"Inquisitor," he yelled. "Does this thing let you load your own music?"

Wren looked up from her conversation.

"Yeah," she yelled back.

"Come show me," Garrett yelled.

Wren pushed away from the table and cut through the crowd to reach the stage, red hair shining under the polished lights. Everyone was here tonight, even the advisors - it was a celebration, after all. They’d thrown themselves into the heart of darkness and everyone had come back alive. What were the odds?

Wren shoved over next to Garrett and crouched down in front of the machine.

"I can’t believe we don’t have what you want in here already," Wren said.

"I don’t see it," Garrett said.

"Did you go back to the main menu? This is just the classic rock sub-section," Wren said.

"Fuck. No," Garrett said.

Wren hit a series of buttons, then watched as Hawke scrolled through. He grinned in victory when he found what he wanted.

"Really?" Wren asked.

"Hell yes," Hawke said. "Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know it. It’s a good song."

"No, no, I’m a fan," Wren said. "It’s not my stage show, but it’s been on heavy rotation in the car."

"Sing it with me, then," Hawke said. He plucked both microphones off the machine and wiggled one in front of her. "Come onnnnn, little bird. You know you can’t resist my charm."

"When does your charm show up?" Wren asked. She crossed her arms and cocked a hip, looking at him in benign amusement.

"If I pull my charm out, your Commander might punch me," Hawke said, winking.

Wren laughed.

Hawke wiggled the microphone again. "Come on," he said. "This will really annoy Fenris. He’s still trying to hate this song."

"Fenris can reach into my chest and yank out my organs," Wren pointed out.

"He won’t. He likes you. He said you’re ‘not as dumb as Garrett’, and he likes me enough to come here with Isabella, Bethany, and Merrill. That’s a lot, just so you know."

Wren shook her head. "You know I can’t resist being on stage," she said.

"I was banking on that, yeah," Hawke said.

She took the proffered microphone.

"Let’s give ‘em a good show," Hawke suggested. He raised an eyebrow.

"Baby," Wren said, "I am always a good show."

He hit the button and the beat rolled out.

"Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things," Hawke sang at Wren, amping his flirtation to crowd drawing levels. "Magic, madness, heaven, sin - saw you there and I thought-"

He looked her up and down, and Wren raised her chin to pull herself into a look of elegant detachment.

"‘Oh my god, look at that face- you look like my next mistake. Love’s a game, wanna play?’"

Wren rolled her eyes and used her free hand to brush Hawke’s shoulder off.

"New money," she sang, "suit and tie, I can read you like a magazine. Ain’t it funny, rumours fly- and I know you heard about me."

She indicated herself with a cock of her hip and a hand on her chest.

"So hey, let’s be friends, I’m dying to see how this one ends. Grab your passport and my hand-"

She held her hand out, looked approvingly on him when he kissed her knuckles and released her hand.

"I can make the bad guys good for a weekend," she noted.

"So it’s gonna be forever, or it’s gonna go down in flames," Hawke sang. "You can tell me when it’s over if the high was worth the pain. Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I’m insane. ‘cause you know I love the players, and you love the game."

"‘cause we’re young and we’re reckless," Wren countered, "we’ll take this way too far. It’ll leave you breathless, or with a nasty scar." She swiped her fingers across the bridge of her nose, mimicking Garrett’s red mark. "Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I’m insane, but I got a blank space baby - and I’ll write your name."

She drew a line with her finger just below her glossy deep red lips.

"Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things," Wren sang, "Stolen kisses, pretty lies. You’re the king, baby, I’m your queen. Find out what you want, be that girl for a month. Wait, the worst is yet to come. Oh no-"

"Screaming, crying, perfect storms - I can make all the tables turn. Rose garden filled with thorns, keep you second-guessing like ‘oh my god, who is he?’ I get drunk on jealousy," Garrett sang, looking smug. "But you’ll come back each time you leave, ‘cause darling I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream."

When they moved into the chorus again, they amped up the acting, flirting outrageously. Wren was a natural stage performer, playing her role of beautiful disaster far better than Hawke did. But, as Hawke was known to be a compelling bad idea all on his own, it hardly mattered.

"Boys only want love if it’s torture," Wren sang, winding her body sinuously around the words. "Don’t say I didn’t, say I didn’t warn ya. Boys only want love if it’s torture - don’t say I didn’t, say I didn’t warn ya."

She made her voice slide into the chorus, singing the counterpoint to Hawke’s singing of both halves of the chorus. Shades of her stage persona slipped in, confident and powerful. She was a beautiful disaster. She was the best worst idea you’d ever had.

Hawke yanked her up against him at the end of the song, when Wren sang the last "and I’ll write your name." They stared at each other for a beat, and then the crowd cheered and yelled.

They both started grinning like little kids, the illusion of romantic tension broken. Hawke hung up the microphones and slung his arm over Wren’s shoulders.

"I am buying you a beer," Hawke said.

"I have earned one," Wren agreed. "You’ve ruined my reputation as a hard rock monster."

"Nah," Hawke said. "I’m just doing my part to make you a legend."

 

* * *

 

 

"Tell me about your lead singer," Cullen said, sitting on the bar stool next to Wolfson.

Wolfson looked over and smirked.

"What do you want to know?" Wolfson asked.

"What should I know?" Cullen asked.

"She always carries no less than five weapons," Wolfson said. "She fights dirty. She drinks small batch cider, so don’t bother trying to buy her a beer."

Wolfson gestured toward his own beer. "Unlike my fine self. My attention is easily purchased with any decent ale."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Cullen said.

Wolfson drank more of his beer, then set down the bottle. He watched Cullen order his own drink, and then waited until the Commander was halfway through a sip.

"Are you asking for military tactical reasons, or because she wants to fuck you?" Wolfson asked.

Cullen choked on his stout.

 

* * *

 

"Oh! It’s nearly five o'clock!" Josephine said. She set down her tea cup and stood up. "I am sorry, I have to get ready to go. Thank you both for coming today. I appreciate it."

Leliana and Cullen looked at one another.

"Where are you going?" Leliana asked.

"I have a date with the Inquisitor," Josephine said.

"A date!" Leliana said.

"Not that kind of date, Leliana," Josie said, waving her hand impatiently. She walked over to her dressing table and sat down to check her makeup.

"What kind of date?" Cullen asked.

Josie reached for a pot of lipstick. "A group of us play a game when we’re all in Skyhold," Josie said. She painted a fresh coat of color on her lips and squinted at the mirror.

"Oh, that," Leliana said. "I didn’t know you were playing tonight."

"Ser Hawke wants to play," Josie said. She tucked a stray lock of hair into her braid again and nodded at herself in the mirror. "We set up a game today so that he might have a chance to try before the Inquisitor leaves again."

"What is this?" Cullen asked, frowning.

"You should go watch, Commander," Leliana said with a smirk. "As I understand it, Sera also watches but does not play."

"She runs the machine," Josie said.

"There are machines involved?" Cullen asked.

"I am enjoying your confusion more than I expected," Leliana said.

Cullen sighed. "Could someone please just tell me?"

Leliana chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

"You brought company!" Wren said, looking over Josie’s shoulder in surprise.

"It was a bit of an accident," Josie said.

Wren leaned over and kissed the Ambassador on the cheek. "Don’t worry," Wren said. "The more the merrier, as they say. Come on up, you three."

Wren led them up the stairs into the expansive bedroom she’d been given with her title. Garrett Hawke was sitting on the end of the bed next to Merrill, who was trying - and failing - to engage Sera in conversation. A few chairs from the hall re-design had wound up here as well. Dagna and Krem occupied two of them, leaving one free.

"You take the chair, Josie," Wren said. "Leliana and Cullen can have the couch."

"Hey, Sister Nightingale," Hawke said, face blooming with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here. Did you come to play?"

"No," Leliana said, smiling. She walked over and sat at one end of the couch. "Just watch. Josie’s descriptions of the game have been quite entertaining, and I thought I would see it for myself."

"What about you, Commander?" Hawke asked.

Wren laughed.

"Ah- no," Cullen said. "I’m not sure exactly how I wound up here at all." Despite his objection, he sat on the other end of the couch and leaned forward attentively.

"I goaded you into it," Leliana said.

Josephine sat down in the free chair and smiled at everyone. "I am sorry if I am late," she said.

"Nah, it’s fine," Hawke said. "We just got here."

"Okay, for the new people, here’s the rules-" Wren started.

"I’ll tell ‘em!" Sera insisted. She stood up and gestured toward the crate in the center of the seating. On the crate was a red button, a little larger than Sera’s palm. It led via wire to a tall grey machine that looked vaguely familiar.

"Listen up, yeah? This is Karaoke Roulette," Sera said. "The machine is full of stuff. I’ll hit the random button and it’ll start playing a song. If you think you can sing the first verse and chorus without messin’ up, you hit the button."

She slammed her hand down on the button to demonstrate. It made a very satisfying thunking sound.

"You gotta be fast, ‘cause the first one to hit it gets to go. If you make it to the end of the chorus, you get ten points. You lose points for every screw up before then, so if you make it to the end and you messed up three times, you only get seven points. You get it?"

"What happens if I hit the button and it’s a mistake?" Merrill asked.

"You have to sing anyway," Sera said. "You can try to fake it, but you’ll probably screw up so much that you won’t get any points."

"Oh," Merrill said.

"Simple, innit?" Sera asked.

"There’s a couple other rules," Wren said. "If you’re super confident, you can keep going. You get two free mistakes if you do. Any more than two and you get no points at all."

"If you make it to the end of the song," Sera said, "you get fifty points."

"Plus the initial ten?" Hawke asked.

"Nope," Sera said. "For the whole thing. Fifty is half what you need to win a round, yeah? Good enough."

"If you and another player think you both know it, you can duet for it," Wren said. "You both hit the button together and then you each have to do your own verse and chorus. If you make it through, you both get 25 points. Full song gets you both 75. You both lose points when either of you makes a mistake, though."

"100 points per round. Three rounds," Sera said. "Or five if it goes too fast. Everyone got it?"

"This should be fun," Hawke said, grinning widely.

"Oh, I hope I do alright," Merrill said.

"I’m sure it’ll be fine," Dagna said.

 

* * *

 

The door below opened, and more footsteps thumped on the stairs.

"Sorry!" Harding said, rushing over. Wolfson followed, carrying two more chairs.

"We got held up at the pub," he explained. "Had to shake off Bull."

"He's so terrible at this game," Wren said affectionately.

"He can't resist the challenge," Krem said, rolling his eyes.

Wolfson set down the chairs, wedging them both in around the circle. Wren looked at the circle, then shook her head.

"We'll never fit another chair in," she said. She turned to Leliana. "Slide over, would you?"

Leliana obligingly slid closer to the arm of the couch, and Wren climbed over to take a spot between the Spymaster and the Commander. Cullen slid over as far as he could, but Wren was pretty firmly in contact with both he and Leliana, hip to knee.

"That's not gonna work," Wolfson said. "You move too much."

"I can be still," Wren said.

Wolfson scoffed. He stood up and gestured toward his chair. "Please, take my seat, Sister Nightingale," he said. "It'll save you the elbow to the face later."

"How can I resist such a kind offer?" Leliana asked. She stood up and took the offered seat. Wolfson walked over and sat on the arm of the couch, giving Wren room to move over on the seat.

"Ready?" Wren asked.

"Hit it," Hawke said.

Sera reached over and punched a button on the karaoke machine.

 

* * *

 

 

The Herald's Rest was crowded by evening. Dorian grumbled as he shoved his way toward the bar.

"Oi! Sparkler!" Sera yelled, waving an arm in the air. She openly elbowed people out of the way, making room for Dorian to pass.

"Come to watch the show?" Sera asked when he reached her side. "We're good."

"So I'm told," Dorian said. "I thought I would see for myself."

"We start soon," Sera said. She flicked her gaze over to the clock behind the bar, then stood up straight. "Oh shit, we really do. I gotta go. Stay here."

Sera vaulted over the bar and ran, leaving Cabot cursing after her.

Stay here? Well, he supposed he could do that. He picked up the ridiculous pink drink Sera had left behind and sipped it. Eh. Good enough.

It was only a few moments later that the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the karaoke machine, and a ripple of laughter washed over the room.

Hawke walked over and hit play, then slipped through the crowd to lean on the bar next to Dorian.

"Evening," Hawke said. He gave Dorian a half smile and looked him over. "Have you come out to play tonight, Dorian?"

A shiver went down Dorian's spine. His fingers tightened around his glass. "That remains to be seen," Dorian said.

The Champion chuckled.

Wren stepped out of the shadows. She gestured for the crowd to part between her and the bar. Dorian slid over away from her line of focus, but Hawke reached over and put his hand on Dorian's arm.

"No," Hawke said. "Stay."

Dorian stopped, and Hawke gave him another smile. Dorian's heart pounded.

He stayed.

The beat started.

"We're all bored," Wren sang. She started a swinging, rhythmic walk off the stage and toward Hawke and Dorian. "We're all so tired of everything. We wait for trains that just aren't coming."

She stepped between them and turned around, leaning on the bar.

"We show off our different scarlet letters," she sang, then leaned over onto Dorian's shoulder as if telling him a secret. "Trust me, mine is better," she sang.

"We're so young," she sang, leaning back against the bar again, "We're on the road to ruin. We play dumb - but we know exactly what we're doing. We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom,

honey, life is just a classroom."

She stood up straight and threw her hands in the air, voice raising to the rafters. "Ah~!"

"'cause baby I could build a castle," she sang, "Out of all the bricks they threw at me, and every day is like a battle, but every night with us is like a dream."

She spread her arms wide, gesturing toward Hawke and Dorian.

"Baby we're the new romantics," she sang, beckoning with her hands. "Come on, come along with me. Heartbreak is the national anthem - we sing it proudly. We are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet. Baby we're the new romantics - the best people in life are free."

She leaned back again, looking bored and smug.

"We're all here. The lights and noise are blinding. We hang back - it's all in the timing. It's poker, you can't see in my face, but I'm about to play my ace."

She leaned away again, then walked toward the stage. The lights came up a bit, showing that Sera and Wolfson were on stage near their instruments.

"We need love," Wren sang, "but all we want is danger. We team up and switch sides like a record changer." She patted Wolfson's arm as she passed, then threw an arm around Sera. "The rumours are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true," Wren sang.

Sera shoved her arm off and made a face.

"'cause baby I could build a castle," Wren sang again, walking toward her place on stage, "Out of all the bricks they threw at me, and every day is like a battle, but every night with us is like a dream."

She grabbed the mic and sang into it, as if it were turned on.

"Baby we're the new romantics," she sang, "Come on, come along with me. Heartbreak is the national anthem - we sing it proudly. We are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet. Baby we're the new romantics - the best people in life are free."

She grinned at Hawke, then winked.

"So come on, come along with me," Wren sang. "The best people in life are free."

Hawke slid over next to Dorian, just slightly too close to be casual.

"She lost a bet," Hawke rumbled in Dorian's ear.

"Oh?" Dorian said. He took another sip of Sera's pink drink. It was making his skin tingle. Or was that Hawke? Damn the man for being so close. He smelled _dangerous_.

"I won," Hawke said.

He leaned back against the bar, watching Wren sing the bridge.

"I do like this song," Hawke said.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be a pop fan," Dorian said.

"It's always nice to be a surprise," Hawke said.

He glanced over at Dorian.

"I wouldn't have thought you were a pink drink sort," Hawke said. "I'd have pinned you as a wine man."

"I am," Dorian said. "But it would be a sin to let a drink go to waste."

Hawke reached over and took the glass from Dorian's hand, drinking the last of it with one swallow.

"Not the worst I've had," Hawke said.

"Good," Dorian said. "Now you'll be the one to owe a replacement to Sera."

"Was it hers? That's more surprising than the idea that it was yours," Hawke said. "Shame, really. I'd rather buy you a drink than her." He looked slyly over at Dorian.

"Why restrict yourself?" Dorian asked. "Feel free to buy me a drink. You already know I'm a wine man."

Hawke signalled for Cabot with a grin.

"Beer for me," he said, "wine for my date here, and-" he handed over a folded bill "-apply that to Sera's tab."

"Your date?" Dorian asked, taking the wine glass Cabot pushed over.

"I'm an optimist," Hawke said. He gave Dorian a wink.

"Well, you certainly have good taste, I'll give you that," Dorian said blithely.

Hawke chuckled. "That I do," he said.


	6. Rescue Mission, ish.

"Oi! Fearless leader! We got a message," Sera yelled.

Wren climbed to her feet and walked over to the solar pack that held their secured data line to Skyhold.

"Be right back," she said. "It’s probably just a stat report."

Varric waved a hand in her direction. "We’ll hold the game for you," he said. "It’ll take a while for Hero to figure out his hand."

Blackwall grumbled, but didn’t protest.

"Sure," Wren said, punching in her passcode and waiting.

Sera walked back to the fire with her drink and shamelessly picked up Wren’s cards.

"Ha!" Sera cackled. "These are-"

"Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK fuck _fuckfuckfuck_ ," Wren hissed.

Blackwall set down his hand.

"Little Bird?" he asked.

"I have to go. Right now," Wren said. "Ten minutes ago. Fuck. Yesterday would be better still."

"Slow down, Birdy," Varric said. "What’s going on?"

Wren took a breath in, then out.

" _Inquisitor_ ," she read aloud, " _we have a situation. Patrols in southern Ferelden have recovered information from cleared Venatori camps. In order to strike at us, the Venatori are planning to capture or kill the Commander’s family in South Reach. According to our information, the Venatori will strike at 0500 tomorrow. We do not have the resources in that area to eliminate the threat or evacuate the targets. You are the only agents close enough to reach them. Please advise as to decision. - L_ "

"What? That’s bullshit," Sera said.

"Come on, Hero, let’s pack this shit up," Varric said. "We can leave in an hour. Buttercup, you dump the fire and close up camp. Birdy, you deal with Leliana. We’re only two hours from South Reach. We can be there before midnight."

Wren typed furiously back, a short missive. _En route to South Reach. Should reach targets in approx two hours. Does Cullen know?_

She started packing up the things nearby, nearly vibrating with frustration.

She’d _just_ had this conversation with Cullen. Josie’s family had their own guards keeping them safe, and Leliana had no apparent ties to anyone that Corypheus could threaten. Cullen, however, had a family - and one that meant a lot to him, however estranged he had made himself from them over the years. They were vulnerable, and distant, and they didn’t have guards. The Inquisition had increased patrols in the area, but they didn’t have the resources-

The light on the console flashed.

_No. He is in meetings with Rylen and Harrison. You are the only one I have informed at this time._

Wren shook her head.

"Don’t just throw things in the truck, we need to make sure there’s room in there for added cargo," Varric said.

"Fine, you do it then," Sera groused.

_"We should bring them to Skyhold," Wren said. Cullen shook his head. "They’re safer out there," he said. "I don’t want to disrupt their lives."_

_Safer out there_ , Wren thought. _So much for that_.

She clicked the console back to receiver and packed it into the truck.

 

* * *

  

Two hours later, South Reach was in sight. Wren had the coordinates for the small farm where Cullen's family lived, and the GPS said they'd arrive in five minutes.

"When we get there," Wren said, "I need you to scout for surprises, Sera. I'll need one of you to stay with the truck, and one to act as point when I go to the house."

"I'll stay here," Blackwall said. "Varric is better with people."

"Sure," Varric said.

They pulled into the gravel drive and Wren switched to her parking lights. She drove slowly up toward the small house and parked behind a battered pick-up.

"Let's go," she said.

Sera slipped out and disappeared into the darkness. Wren climbed out of the car, leaving Blackwall to take her place at the driver's seat. Varric followed her toward the house.

Most of the lights were off, save one toward the back of the house and one upstairs. It was very quiet.

They stopped at the door.

"I wish we could text them," Wren said. "Cullen doesn't have their numbers. He insists on writing them paper letters, or under duress, emails."

"Curly has his quirks," Varric said.

Wren sighed and knocked on the door.

After a moment, she pounded on it harder.

"I saw the curtain move," Varric said. "Try again."

Wren knocked a third time.

The door opened.

Wren tried not to stare. The man on the other side of the door was a leaner, younger version of the Commander. His hair was longer, darker, and more honeyed. His eyes were dark brown. He didn't have Cullen's plethora of scars. The scowl, though, that was nearly a copy, and the way he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Wren was terribly familiar.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. "Don't you know it's after midnight?"

"Oh, thank the Maker, this is the right house," Wren said.

"Birdy," Varric said, "Maybe just answer the angry man's question."

"You're Branson Rutherford," Wren said.

"I am," Branson said. "What's this about?"

"We're agents of the Inquisition," Wren said.

"Prove it," Branson said.

Wren reached down and pulled the fingerless glove off her left hand. Eerie green light rippled from her palm, illuminating her face from below with a strange glow.

Branson looked at the dancing light in rapt fascination.

"Wanna touch it?" Wren asked.

"No, I- Maker's teeth," Branson said, recoiling. "You're the Inquisitor!"

"Shh," Wren said, pulling her glove back on. "Let's not alert the Venatori."

Branson looked over her shoulder anxiously.

"I have someone watching," Wren said. "But maybe we better go in and talk about this, hmm?"

Branson stepped back and waved them in. "Yeah," he said. "I'll get Mia."

 

* * *

 

"We got a problem," Sera said, face pressed close to the screen. "I had to take out a couple of the guards."

"Well, shit," Varric said.

"Mia's packing up the kids," Wren said, "Branson and Rosalie are packing clothes and pictures and stuff. We should be out of here in a half hour, tops."

"Better hope that's enough," Sera said. "I can keep picking 'em off, but that ain't the most subtle way to get this done."

"Stay close to the house, but keep watching," Wren said. "Varric and I will help move things along. Did you warn Blackwall?"

"Yeah," Sera said. "He's watching."

"I'll text you when they're loaded," Wren said. "Come on Varric. Let's do some nudging."


	7. Character Pieces, ish.

"I would dearly love to have seen your RENT phase," Josephine said, wine glass held loosely in her fingers.

"I didn’t have one," Wren said, stretching her legs back over her head and touching her toes to the floor. She rolled up again, then dropped forward to stretch her fingers out past her feet.

"What do you mean? Every theater kid has a RENT phase, even if it isn’t over RENT," Josie said. She watched Wren’s stretches with a sort of idle fascination. The girl was just so _bendy_.

"I don’t mean to disillusion you, Josie-bear, but there isn’t a lot of theater in military school," Wren said. She sat back up again and turned to face the ambassador.

"That has nothing to do with it," Josie said. "There’s always a show that you think is amazing when you first get into theater, and you become obsessed over it and read into it and sing it constantly-"

"And you’re saying this was RENT for you?" Wren asked.

"Not RENT, for me, but it is pretty common," Josie said. "I cannot believe you do not know this."

"I was sheltered," Wren said. The lie drew a laugh from Josephine.

"So what you’re really saying is you want to know what I was crazy into when I was younger," Wren said.

"Yes," Josie said. "Did you not have such things? Interests of your own?"

"I did, but I couldn’t indulge them," Wren said. "I was allowed music because Baron made space for that for me. I mean, there was Chantry singing in school, but that was hardly a genre to draw me."

"You had to sing in school? Was that true of all Templars?" Josie asked.

"Hmm? Yes," Wren said. "There was some policy about it, learning to fill your role in the unit or some such nonsense. If you went through Templar training, you had to sing a lot of ridiculously intricate choral numbers."

Both women looked at each other a moment, struck by the same thought.

_Cullen had been a Templar._

"Oh Maker," Wren said, her eyes sparkling with the laughter that was bubbling in her chest.

"We can’t say anything to him," Josie said.

Wren stood up.

Josie set down her wine glass.

They booked it for the door.

When the door to his office burst open, Cullen was half in, half out of his shirt. The fabric was caught around his elbows and covered his face, and all he could do was struggle to free it and turn in the direction of the sound.

There was an ominous silence until he managed to yank the shirt down.

"Sorry," he said, shoving the tail into his pants. "Just got in from training. Did you need something?"

He looked up when there wasn’t an answer.

Josie had her head turned to the side, unable to look at him. Wren, however, had no such issue. She was shamelessly staring at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"Did you know," she said, watching his hands as he adjusted his clothing, "that there’s a Qunari term for being caught unprepared that pretty much means ‘getting your horns caught in your shirt’?"

"I did not," Cullen said. He finished tucking his shirt and crossed his arms over his chest.

Wren finally managed to look at his face. "It’s something like that, anyway," she said.

"Is that what you came in to tell me?" he asked.

"Oh. No," Wren said. She bit her lip again, then smiled. "I wanted to ask. Did your school have mandatory choral?"

Cullen looked immediately suspicious. "Why?" he asked.

"Josie didn’t believe me when I said all Chantry schools do, even the military ones," Wren said. She smiled reassuringly.

"They do," Cullen said. He tensed.

"So yours did," Wren said.

"Yes," Cullen said. He frowned.

Her eyes danced with unsettling glee.

"You graduated when you were what, seventeen?" Wren asked.

"Yes," Cullen said. "Why?"

"No reason. Come on, Josie," Wren said, grabbing the Ambassador’s arm and dragging her toward the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Wren and Josie were sitting on Wren’s bed.

"I know I can find this," Wren said, squinting at her laptop screen.

"I wonder how he came to have that scar," Josie mused.

"Which?" Wren asked.

"On his… ribs," Josie said. "The left side."

Wren paused in her work, looking up and off into space.

"Looked like a slice," Wren said. "Not a stab wound."

Her eyes unfocused as she pictured it in her mind.

Josephine looked at Wren, and watched a flush rise subtly on her skin.

"Anyway," Wren said abruptly, turning her attention back to the laptop, "I know it’s here, I just…"

She trailed off, scrolling down through the pages.

"Got it!" she whooped in triumph. She clicked a link and pulled up a video. Josephine scrambled over to sit next to Wren. They both peered down at the screen.

A graduating class of Templar boys. _They look so young_ , Wren thought. _Babies_. A whole crew of those 18 and nearly-18 year olds, lined up in neat rows on risers, all at crisp attention.

_There._

Wren pressed her hand to her mouth.

He was so young. His hair was tight curls, cut close, and he looked proud and eager. Idealistic. Josephine made a soft noise in her throat. "Oh," she said, "that’s him, is it not? So many curls!"

Then, the singing began.

It would be foolish to think she could pick his voice out, but sometimes she thought she could. Josephine leaned forward, listening for it, and when Wren thought she heard it she nudged Josie.

It was an old hymn, a favorite of the Ferelden Chantry. Wren remembered it, but didn’t know it well. Marchers had their own favorites, after all. The enthusiasm with which the boys sang out made something twist in Wren’s chest. The future facing them was so harsh. When she watched Cullen’s face beam with pride, she wanted to step into the past and sweep him up, protect him from his future.

"He looks so sweet," Josephine said. "He must have been an adorable child."

Wren dragged her mind back to the present. "I’ll bet. Like Liam, probably."

"Oh!" Josephine nodded, thinking of Cullen’s nephew. "Yes, almost certainly."

When the song ended, Josie turned to look at Wren. "If you found this one, surely there’s one with you in it out there," she said.

Wren shook her head. "I didn’t graduate," she said. "I left before then. I do have something I could show you, though."

She clicked away from the Chantry records and into her own files, scrolling through hundreds of folders until hitting upon the number she wanted. She headed into the files, then pulled up a few.

The pictures filled the screen. A little girl, age eight, her hair cut with thick bangs and her face freckled from the sun was looking back at the camera. A large bandage covered a scrape on her knee, and she was dragging a branch twice her own height.

Josephine squeaked. "Is that you?"

"Uh huh," Wren said. "We were cleaning up after a storm."

She flicked over to the next picture - the same girl, fourteen now, all gangly limbs and defiance. She did not smile at the camera, though the boy next to her did.

"Wolfson?" Josephine asked.

"Yes," Wren said. She smiled affectionately at the boy on the screen. His hair was a little too long, and he was just a bit shorter than she was. He was always smiling back then, dimples on full display.

She changed to the last picture.

Herself, again, now twenty-one. She was surrounded by women, most of them wearing very little clothing. Wren was the most dressed, in dark jeans and combat boots. She wore a silver bra and a fine mesh shirt. A band around her thigh held crossbow bolts. Lip prints marked her face.

"It was my birthday," Wren said, as if this explained everything.

Josephine looked from the picture to Wren, then back again. "Where were you?" she asked.

"I worked security at a strip club," Wren said. "Under the table. My job was to stay in the back and guard the door to the staging room. I didn’t own that shirt, or that bra. They gave me the bra, and the shirt was Lindsay’s." She frowned a little. "Bit different than the Commander," she said. "Not nearly so sweet."

Josephine shook her head. "You don’t look so much older than he did," she said. "Just different company."

Wren laughed. "Anyway," she said, "Lindsay was the one to get me into musicals. My first was Hedwig and the Angry Inch."

"Really?" Josephine turned to stare. "That seems…"

She paused.

"…appropriate," Josephine conceded.

"Yep," Wren said.

She closed the laptop and flopped back on the bed.

Josie laid back next to her.

"Mine was ‘The Sound of Music’," Josie confessed.

Wren laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

"Commander?"

Cullen looked up from his untouched drink. He didn't know the woman leaning over to peer at him, and he curbed his impulse to frown at the interruption.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Knight-Captain Rylen asked me to bring you a message," she said.

Cullen sat up.

"He said to tell you that he would be ten minutes late. He didn't ask me to tell you why, but I can tell you it's because Little Bird needed help pulling a part," she said.

"Little Bird- the Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.

"Wild, huh?" the woman said, leaning her hip against the table. "She's so different now, it's crazy."

Cullen looked closer at the woman. Who was she?

"Oh, we haven't met," she said. She extended her hand, and Cullen shook it. She had a firm handshake.

"Polly Peterson," she said. "I just got here a week ago. Came when I heard you had Little Bird here. Bird worked for us ten years back or so."

"Did she?" he asked. "Doing what?"

Polly sat down in the empty chair across from him.

"Security," she said.

He cast his memory back to the reports he'd read back in Haven. Security, security… wait.

"At the… club?" he asked.

"Your _face_!" Polly laughed. "Yes, at the club. She guarded the back room door. And before you refuse to ask, _yes_ , I was one of the dancers."

"I wouldn't have-" Cullen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It's fine," Polly said.

Silence fell at the table for a moment.

"She really is different now," Polly said affectionately. "When I knew her, she was just a quiet kid."

"Quiet!" Cullen said.

Polly laughed. "I take it that's not your experience of her," she said. "Thought not. She was, though. Always watching, always on edge, brutally efficient when there was a threat. Some jackass thought he could touch Tansy, and I saw Bird break his arm just like it was nothing. She had our backs, no question."

Cullen took a drink.

"She taught us some defense moves," Polly said. "We taught her some dancing. Fair exchange, yeah?"

Cullen paused, the mug still held to his lips.

Polly laughed again. "Don't worry, she's already told me she doesn't use what we taught her. She hasn't been out shaming your Inquisition."

Cullen set down the mug and shook his head.

"I'm glad to see her out there on stage now," Polly said. "She has the prettiest voice. Not so much in the things she sings out there, but if she ever sings just for you? It's the nicest thing. Gentle. And I'm glad she has a family."

Polly stood up and leaned over to look at Cullen.

"I hope you and the other two in charge know what a treasure she is," Polly said.

The door behind her opened. Rylen walked in, a smear of grease still staining his forehead.

"Sorry boss," he said. "Thank you for carrying the message, miss."

Polly swiped a napkin off the table and wiped the grease off Rylen's head. "No problem, sugar," she said. "I'm going to bother a certain avian mutual. Have a nice meeting, boys."

Rylen sat down in her vacated seat.

"Problem, boss?" he asked.

Cullen shook his head. "I can't decide if she was trying to sell the Inquisitor to me, or warn me against going near her."

Rylen chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

"Have you seen the Herald?" Rosalie asked, poking her head into Cullen’s office.

"No," he said, not bothering to look up. "Have you checked the tavern?"

"No," Rosalie said. "She wouldn’t be there."

Cullen scoffed.

"No, she’s more responsible than that. You’re such a cynic, big brother."

Cullen looked up. "What does responsibility have to do with it?" he asked.

"She’s watching Liam," Rosalie said. "I thought maybe she’d brought him here."

Cullen frowned. "You let the Inquisitor babysit?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "She offered, and the kid loves her," Rosalie said. "Mia is allowed to have a break sometimes, you know."

"What about you?"

"I had a date. What’s _with_ you?"

"A date? With who?" Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

Rosalie shook her head. "Pssh, that’s my business. Ask Wren if you’re so curious, she knows."

Hurt flashed across Cullen’s face. "Why does the Inquisitor know more about your personal life than I do?" he asked.

"The Inquisitor asks," Rosalie said. "And she doesn't make that face when she does it." She pulled away and let the door to his office shut.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re late, too?” Leliana asked, catching pace with Cullen in the main hall.

“Harrison stopped me,” Cullen said. “A problem with a few of the soldiers, nothing serious.”

“I’m certain we’ve missed little,” Leliana said. “The Inquisitor does so hate to get up early. The Ambassador may have gotten her out of bed, but only just.”

They made it to Josephine’s office door, and Cullen held the door for Leliana. The office was empty, so they headed to the next door, into the hall beyond.

The heavy door at the end of the hall blocked sound, but both Leliana and Cullen paused. Battle senses, long honed, told them that the war room was occupied.

The pair of them walked down the hall. Leliana opened the door, then smothered a chuckle.

Cullen walked up to peer over her shoulder.

Josephine was laughing, a free and easy sound, as she was danced around the floor by the Inquisitor. Wren was still in her pajamas, barefoot, but leading confidently around the table.

Wren was singing as they danced.

“Hear me heathens and wizards and serpents of sin,” Wren sang, “all your dastardly doings are past.”

She and Josie crossed the floor in a whirl. Josie’s sleeves caught the light from the broken windows, the movement turning the dancers into a golden blur.

“For a holy endeavor is now to begin, and virtue shall triumph at last,” Wren sang.

Her next lines were drowned out in a flurry of giggles from both girls as they dodged a chair that had been left in the way. Wren swung them out of the way, then caught sight of Leliana.

She tugged Josie into a smooth turn, leaving her with a view of the door.

Josie nearly fell over in surprise.

“Leliana!” Josie gasped. “I- you- ah-”

Leliana laughed. “I’m sorry to break up the party,” she teased.

Josie let go of Wren and brushed herself off, blushing.

Wren chuckled. “I’m ruining your reputation, Ambassador,” she said.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be, if you wore pants,” Leliana said.

Wren looked down at herself.

“No,” Wren said, shaking her head. “I doubt that would help.”


	8. Onoes Attraction, ish.

She was hell on his focus.

The sound from the tavern somehow managed to fill his office, despite the distance. He could hear the drums best of all, though the rest of the band melded into a loud sound that he supposed was music when you didn’t have a constant withdrawal headache.

The singing he couldn’t hear much at all, and that he considered a blessing.

He sighed and went back to work, feeling the drum beat in the back of his head.

When things went quiet again, he knew it must be late. They never closed up before it was absolutely necessary.

He put his head down on the desk.

How long it was before he heard the knock on the door, he didn’t know. His neck and shoulders ached, though, so he suspected he’d fallen asleep.

"Who is it?" he growled.

"Me," Wren said. She cracked the door open just enough to be heard. "Can I cut through your office?"

Cold wind whistled through the crack in the door, whipping across the top of the desk. He sighed and put his head back down.

"Go ahead," he said.

She opened the door, then paused in the doorway a moment. He could feel her gaze, heavy on his back.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he said. "Go on."

He heard the door click, but instead of walking around to the front door, her footsteps brought her to stand beside him. He heard a rustle, then a thump.

She stepped closer.

"Can I touch you?"

He must have heard that wrong. "What?"

"Touch you. Can I?"

"Why?"

"I-"

She was quiet for long enough that he lifted his head again and sat up, turning to look at her.

She was disheveled from the concert, still flushed and sweaty from the lights and exertion. Her hair, longer now in preparation for Halamshiral, was falling out of the pins that had tried to hold it away from her face. She was watching him with a small tilted frown pulling one corner of her mouth down. She’d dropped her jacket on the floor, and now squatted down and swept it back up into her arms.

"I- never mind," she said, "Sorry, it was a silly thing to ask. I’ll see you tomorrow, Commander."

She was across the room before his brain could catch up.

"Wait- Inquisitor."

Wren turned, her hand on the door handle.

"I apologise," he said. "I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s been a long night."

"You weren't rude," Wren said. "It was a strange thing to ask. Don't worry about it."

"I do want you to-" he said. "That is- you can. If that’s something…" He felt his face begin to burn. _You can touch me_ , he thought. _Maker’s breath, that sounds filthy._

Wren moved away from the door and walked back to his desk. He could see on her face that the innuendo wasn’t lost on her, but she said nothing about it. Odd, for Wren. She never missed a chance to knock him sideways, to insinuate and tease. What must he look like, that she was treating him carefully?

She stood next to him a moment, arms crossed over her jacket.

"It's just that I have an idea," she said.

She set her jacket down on the floor, then walked around behind him.

He longed at that moment for the body armor he’d taken off hours before, discarded on the sofa in the corner. He didn’t even have a chair with a back - he’d given that to Harrison weeks ago. Now he made do with a wooden stool, and mostly stood to work. It gave him an excuse to pace.

He tensed as he felt her lean closer.

She reached over and set her hands flat on his shoulders. She left them there a moment, the heat from her palms sinking into him. She relaxed her hands, letting her fingers rest against him, staying still and calm as if he were a flighty horse.

She smoothed her hands over the muscles of his neck and shoulders, tracing them lightly at first, and then harder. He reminded himself to breathe, breathe, as she leaned in. Her hands were strong, her movements practiced as she began to coax his muscles into submission. His focus narrowed to just the sensation of her hands on him. He felt his body start to relax, and no one was more surprised than he to find his shoulders dropping and his head falling forward.

His eyes closed.

She started to hum quietly, working her way up to his neck and then down onto his back. What song was that? It sounded so familiar...

The question drifted away. Tension he’d carried all day eased. He felt light-headed, and the headache shifted into something more bearable - not gone, but easier. Different.

Her hands were gentler after a while, softer, touching him as if for the pleasure of doing it rather than for a purpose. When she tipped her fingers to draw her short nails along his back, goosebumps raised on his arms. She drew lines down his spine, low, then back up.

Unbidden, images flooded his mind - her nails digging into his shoulders, scratching down his back as-

His breath hitched.

Her fingers slipped up his neck, then traced lines up through his hair and over to his temples. She rubbed gentle circles there, soft, easing more of the pain into a dull ache. She smoothed his hair back in place as she retraced her steps, then stood up again and lifted her hands away. He choked back a groan of protest, sitting back and opening his eyes again.

The room came into dull focus. Wren was walking around the side of the desk, snatching up her jacket with unsteady hands.

"You should get some sleep, Commander," she said, her voice rough.

She fled the room before he could reply.

 

* * *

 

 

"We'll leave tomorrow for-"

Wren, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen all turned as one when the door to the war room opened with a bang. Mia burst in, carrying her son and looking exhausted. Liam's face was red from crying, and he was pitching up to start another wail.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Mia said, "but I can't take it anymore."

She walked over and thrust the toddler out at Wren.

Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine watched in confused silence as Wren set down her reports and walked over.

"What's up, little guy?" she asked.

Liam's eyes went wide, and then he reached for Wren with such enthusiasm that Mia nearly lost her grip on him. Wren scooped up the little boy and deposited him on her hip.

"He's been screaming since breakfast," Mia said. Each word seemed to weigh her down.

"Aw, Mia," Wren said. "Have a bath, have lunch, take a nap. I got this."

Mia handed over a rag, then sighed in relief.

"You're a lifesaver," Mia said. "I'll see you later."

Wren looked down at Liam. He clapped his hands against her in pleasure and let out a squeal.

"Come on," she said, "Let's see how we can mess with Orlais, buddy."

She walked back over to the war table.

"Ah… Inquisitor," Cullen said. "What- what's going on?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious," Wren said, nodding toward the babbling toddler on her hip. "Now, you were saying, Josie? We're leaving tomorrow for…?"

The rest of the meeting was as normal, or as close to normal as it could be with the youngest Rutherford adding his opinion to every statement Wren made. Wren just nodded and carried on.

When the meeting was over, she carried Liam out. "I'll be in the garden if you need me," she said.

The moment the door was closed behind Wren and the baby, Josephine turned to Leliana with barely concealed glee.

"I never thought the Inquisitor would be good with babies!" Josie said.

"Have you seen her around the other children? She isn't," Leliana said. "Perhaps there's just something about the Rutherfords."

Leliana and Josie looked over at Cullen, who put his hands up in defense. "Don't look at me," he said. "I know nothing about this."

"Maybe she has a thing for blondes," Leliana teased.

"Or curls," Josie suggested.

Cullen sighed and shook his head. "Rosalie said Liam was fond of the Inquisitor," he said. "I didn't believe her."

"You just don't like to believe anything good about her," Josephine said.

"That's not true," he said.

Josephine looked disbelieving. Leliana shook her head. "No, Josie, he's right. He's very fond of the Inquisitor. He just doesn't want to admit how fond he is."

"Now, wait-" Cullen said.

Josephine looked at him consideringly. "You know, Leliana, I think you're right."

"Could we go back to painting me as a jerk that hates babies?" Cullen asked.

 

* * *

 

 

Wren stretched out on her sleeping bag and stared up at the duct taped ceiling of her tent. She was bored. Not tired, no, that would be too convenient and pleasant. Bored. Varric was asleep, Dorian was on watch, and Bull was off doing whatever he was doing in the dragon nest they’d cleared earlier that day. Discussing something with Frederik? Jerking off? Maker, who the fuck knew.

She pulled out her phone and scowled at it. There was no signal out here in Emprise, and it didn’t matter, because everyone she could text was in Skyhold, where signal was also crap. Though - she did have two bars, thanks to whatever Dagna had done with the towers.

Wren thumbed down her list of contacts and opened a new message.

Back in Skyhold, Cullen was sitting at his desk, frowning at the reports. More movement out of Orlais, more ribbons of red lyrium trailing across the continent. What a bloody mess, and in Emprise, Wren and the men were in the middle of it.

His phone vibrated on the desk top. He reached over and slid his thumb over the screen.

_127.17.2._

_What?_ He frowned. _Who sent that?_ He looked again.

Wren. Of course it would be her. Who else would send him random numbers near midnight?

 _What?_ he sent back.

_I left my music player in your desk._

How was that an answer? He pulled open the drawer and looked inside. Yes, there it was, sitting on top of the box where he hid his lyrium philter. He picked up the tactile little device and pulled it out, shutting the drawer again to hide its remaining contents.

_Why?_

He hit send.

_127 17 2. Turn it on and find it._

He pushed the button to turn on the device, then watched the little screen display boot information. It settled onto a home screen, and he toggled over to her music list.

Sort by - Artist, Song, Genre, Number. He selected "Number", then waited for the list to populate.

He scanned down to 127, then hit enter. It populated a new list of numbers, and he selected 17. A much shorter list now, and he hit 2.

A song began.

_If you're the captain, I'll be the crew  
_ _'cause I just love to take orders from you  
_ _You blow the bugle and I'll jump to  
_ _How I'd love to take orders from you_

Cullen smirked. He pulled out his phone. _Very funny,_ he typed quickly. He hit send. Did she know every song on this thing by numeric code? Maker, he would never understand her mind.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up.

_Who says I’m joking?_

Cullen stared at the screen.

_When someone tells me to march or to halt  
_ _My soul rebels, I'm that way to a fault  
_ _No rules or regulations would I obey  
_ _Then I met you and I knew right away_

  _If you're the captain, I'd be the crew  
_ _'cause I just love to take orders from you  
_ _You blow the bugle and I'll jump to  
_ _How I'd love to take orders from you_

_If you say kiss me, that's what I'll do  
_ _'cause I just love to take orders from you_


	9. Halamshiral, or The Only Chapter That Matters, ish.

Cullen shut the door to his room in the rented villa and clenched his fists to stop the shaking. The panic kept pulling at him. Hands, everywhere, always trying to touch him. People wanting more from him, attention, time, and all he wanted was-

He pushed out his breath in a hard exhale and closed his eyes. 

Then, from the bedroom that adjoined this little sitting room, he heard the sound of someone moving.

_No,_ he thought, _not more people. Please Maker, he just wanted to be done._

Then, he heard a familiar sound - a battered guitar, strummed carefully.

"Give me a heart to hold the godlike truth," Wren’s voice spilled out from the room beyond. "Give me one good soul that I can tell it through. Give me good reason to believe in you, and give me strength if you have time."

He unclenched his fists and opened his eyes.

"Give me two hands that’ll hold this up, and though you give me no more than just enough," she sang, a smile in her voice, "You gave a pair of brown eyes that could call a good bluff, and somebody who thinks they shine."

He pushed away from the door and walked into the room.

"And you," she sang. "I just want you. I just want you."

He pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto a chair as he passed, headed for the door.

"Spend most of my life on a microphone, giving all that I got ‘til I head back home, and when the lights go out and I’m all alone, I’ve got no reason to be crying."

He unbuckled his belt and tossed it on the couch, with the sashes right behind. He unbuttoned the overcoat and slid it off his shoulders, dropping it onto the chair nearest the bedroom door.

"And on a bad day I feel like a masochist. Take it away from me if it’s for the best." Her voice took on a hint of wry humor. "Somehow I’ve ended up the head of this freight train that isn’t mine."

He reached the door and looked into the bedroom. 

It wasn’t his imagination - there sat the Herald of Andraste, her long bare legs dangling off the end of his bed, guitar in her lap. 

"You," she sang, "I just want you." She looked up from her guitar and looked at him. "I just want you," she sang, more gently.

He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her.

She kept her eyes on him. She’d stripped Halamshiral from her body faster than he had - her face had been ruthlessly scrubbed of makeup, her hair unpicked and pulled back into a ponytail, and her suit replaced with a tank top and shorts, all in the time it’d taken him to escape the Palace and make his way to the villa.

"So take it all away," she sang, "If it isn’t meant for me. I don’t want the easy way-" Her voice shook, and she swallowed. "I just want you. They can give me everything, but at the end of the day, the only words I’ll say are ‘I just want you’."

She looked away. She hummed along with her playing for a bit, almost to comfort herself. 

_She’s nervous._

He remembered how angry she’d been at the Winter Palace when she’d seen how tense he was.

_I’ll break their pretty little fingers if they touch you again, she’d said. You get to decide whose attention you want._

_Yours is the only attention worth having, he’d said._

_Do you mean that?_

_I- yes._

"It’s all so simple when you break it all down," she sang quietly. "Two roads converged on a hallowed ground. It’s taken all my life to hear the sacred sound of sweet simplicity. Saying ‘Give it all back, it don’t mean a thing. You got a short little life and a song to sing, and the only way up is believing in never looking down.’"

She looked back up at him.

"So take it all away," she sang. "If it isn’t meant for me. I don’t want the easy way. I just want you." There was a rough edge to her voice. "They can give me everything, but at the end of the day, the only words I’ll say are-"

Her voice cracked. It _cracked_ , and she closed her eyes.

"‘I just want you’."

She held the last note, and strung it out. "I just want you," she repeated. 

She opened her eyes again as she strummed the last chords.

Wren set the guitar down on the floor.


	10. Stormy Weather, ish.

"You knew about this! You all knew about this, and you didn't see the need to tell us?"

Leliana had never looked so angry with any of them before. Cullen and Josephine just stood back, watching the spymaster face down the Inquisitor.

"Why would I tell you?" Wren asked. Her arms were crossed, her face set in stone. "He's my family. Family protects each other."

"Yes," Leliana said, "and if you had _told_ me, I could have _helped_ protect him before we got here!"

Leliana threw a gesture at the war table, where the reports had been scattered. Blackwall - Thom Rainier - was in jail in Orlais, arrested on war crimes charges. 

Behind Wren, the war room door opened. Sera burst in, Wolfson on her tail.

"Sera- sorry Birdy, I tried to- come on," Wolfson pleaded.

"Get him back!" Sera demanded, grabbing Wren's arm. " _GET HIM BACK._ "

"Sera-" Wren said.

"Don't you fucking 'Sera' me! This is your fault! Get him back right now!" Sera said.

"I can't just burst into Val Royeaux and blow up the fucking prison!" Wren said.

"If you don't get him out, I will," Sera said. It was a clear threat, and Leliana threw up her hands.

"Maker take you," Leliana said. "Do you know how much work it was for Josephine to keep the rest of you out of jail already? Four countries wanted Sera for questioning! We managed to clear your records, but we can only fix _what we know about_."

"Wait. You cleared my record?" Sera asked.

" _Yes_ ," Leliana said. "Which you would know, if you read your messages."

"I never pay attention to that shite. Wren tells me the important stuff," Sera said.

"Yes, well, I didn't tell Wren. She had other things to deal with," Leliana said.

"I always have enough time to hear about my friends," Wren said. 

"She didn't clear my record," Wolfson said.

"You don't _have_ a record," Wren said.

"Just thought you'd like to stay informed," Wolfson said.

"This is all very well," Josephine said, "but we really need to discuss what we are going to do about Ser Blackwall."

"Get him out," Sera demanded.

"Yes, and how do you suppose we'll do that?" Leliana asked. 

"Bombs," Sera said.

" _No_ ," Wren said. "That won't help. Celene and Briala owe me, and Josie's made sure they know it. Can we lean on that to get him released into our custody?"

"Yes," Josie said. "It will reduce our bargaining power in the future, though. You'll have to do some more favors if you want to keep the strong upper hand."

"Fine. Sign me the fuck up. I'll do whatever it takes," Wren said. "Get him out."

"There's a small fête coming up," Josie said. "They've asked for the four of us to attend-"

"Something else," Wren said. "I'm not bringing the Commander among those bloody sharks again unless you agree I can gut anyone that looks at him twice."

"It's fine," Cullen said. "I-"

"It isn't fine," Wren said. " _You aren't paying for this._ You're pissed at Blackwall and-"

" _And I said it was fine,_ " Cullen said.

" _It isn't fine._ "

"Hey!" Sera clapped her hands loudly. "Knock it off! You can fuck about this later. Are we getting Beardy out or not?"

"Yes," Wren said. "We are."

"I'll contact Celene," Josephine said. 

"I'll see what I can do about clearing his record," Leliana said.

"Sera's going to go clear the Herald's Rest by practicing in the main room," Wolfson said.

"What?" Sera asked. "I'm not-"

"Come on. You'll feel better," Wolfson said. He took hold of her shoulders and walked her toward the door.

The room cleared for everyone save Wren and Cullen.

"Why didn't you tell me about Blackwall?" Cullen asked.

"It never came up," Wren said.

"And you never thought to bring it up?"

"When would I? Casually over breakfast? 'Pass me the toast, oh, and by the way, one of my best friends is wanted for war crimes'?"

"His orders got good men killed," Cullen said, shaking his head. "On top of the civilian lives lost."

"He was working on bad information."

"Bad information that would have gotten him a promotion and a hefty bonus if his CO hadn't-" 

"Yeah, let's talk about that, why don't we? How he was told that the target was a ringleader and his men, and he didn't find out it was civilians until it was too late to pull the attack?"

"Civilians and _children_ , Wren. He certainly didn't look into it closely once they dangled that money in front of him."

Wren slapped her hand down on the war table. "You think he doesn't know that? He was young and stupid and he got good people killed. And now he's twenty years older and he tries to make amends for his shit every day."

"If he wanted to make amends," Cullen said, "he wouldn't have gone AWOL and left his men to face the consequences alone."

"I can't defend that shit," Wren said. "And I won't, and he knows that."

"But you defend him killing children!"

"No! He knows how I feel about that, but what the fuck can I do about it? He did some terrible shit, but what do we do around this table every day?"

"We're trying to-"

"Don't you fucking validate the shit we do and then throw him under the bus for the shit he did. We have ruined entire families, killed people, seized assets, and all because we're 'at war'. Well, so was he."

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it."

She sighed.

"I don't want to fight with you," she said. "He fucked up. I hate what he did, and he knows it. He hates it, too. He would do anything now if it meant he could take it back, but he can't. He'd agree with you, on every point."

"Why didn't you tell me, Wren?" Cullen looked at her wearily.

"I've kept his secrets for so long," she said. "His, mine, Sera's…"

She sighed.

"I don't even think about it anymore," Wren said. "I don't have to try not to tell people - I just don't. I didn't think about telling you, because I don't think about telling anyone. Or not telling anyone. I don't think about it at all."

Wren looked down at her feet.

"Maybe if I had, he wouldn't be there now," she said.

"No. Don't blame yourself," Cullen said.

Wren sighed. "We'll sort something out. Do some favors. Not that party, though. I mean it. You don't have to go back to Orlais."

"It wasn't all bad," he said.

Wren looked over at him and narrowed her eyes skeptically.

"Most of it _was_ bad," he admitted. "But you did dance with me." His smile was just a bit teasing, trying to clear the air.

"I promise I will dance with you somewhere other than Orlais," she said.

"And there was the song," he said.

A blush crept across her face.

"And-"

Wren stepped closer and pressed a finger to his lips.


	11. The End, kinda, ish.

Skyhold was nearly empty these days. 

It was just the last of them now, wrapping up loose ends. Josephine had spent down their coffers giving relocation and severance packages to everyone that had given their time in service to the Inquisition, and now the halls and yards were silent. 

Sera walked through the yard, scrambling up the steps toward the main hall. 

The sound from the rotunda was familiar, and yet not. She swung around and walked over to the doorway.

The paintings on the walls only made Sera cross - reminders that Solas had witnessed everything and was still going to kill them all for some shite that didn’t mean anything. The piano in the center of the room was still half-covered in a drop cloth. 

Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, sometimes Sera used to sit in the shadows and watch Solas teaching Wren to play that piano. He’d been so patient, and Wren had been such a terrible student, but they'd just kept trying.

When he’d left, Wren had taken to practicing more and more often. "When he comes back," she used to say, "I want him to be impressed. I want to show him I was paying attention."

She’d played for hours, finding a kind of solace in it.

Then he’d come back.

Wren was sitting on the bench, feet on the pedals, one hand on the keys. She played half the notes, her left arm still held tight to her chest with bandages.

Sera walked over and sat on the bench. She put her left hand on the keys.

Wren started to play again, and Sera played the missing parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be very obvious, but these were all flash fiction or prompts from my Tumblr. I've tried to arrange them here into roughly a timeline, but there might be blips. I wrote them all in 2015-ish, and haven't really messed with them since, so please forgive any wobbles.
> 
> In case you're curious about how the Wren of this AU fits into her world, I made a post about it here : https://goo.gl/LkwkTv
> 
> Anyway, thanks for your patience while this story underwent an offline overhaul. I wanted to finally arrange the chapters and pull all the ficlets together in one place. <3


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